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Thursday, September 30, 2010

I now had to make Sophie’s choice. Do I confront him or just hope he sticks with Plan A. My insides festered with anger, hurt, and uncertainty putting me into accusation auto pilot and plotting a course for collision. I was compelled towards addressing this situation head on.

The confrontation unfortunately did not bring any closure. It was followed by ten minutes of denial and then a trip to the bathroom, where reality reared its unwelcome head, along with leftover Ethiopian food. I had lost myself to a man that had to decide if he loved me or not by making a list. I took my final bow and end scene.

It took months of crying, anorexia and denial before I was able to move on thanks to him. Soon after we broke up he married the other girl on the list – Miss Plan B. It was really at this point that I had no option, but to toughen up and back away from the couch and my robust collection of velour sweat suits. It had taken a liar for me to see the truth. Love for the catalyst was no deeper than pen to paper, but I had learned to love myself - A small price (and an Emmy worthy performance) to pay for self actualization.

So don’t show up late or not at all for a self examination. The price can be costly. Ask yourself the age old question “who am I?” and not in the sense of “what am I doing here?” and “what is the universe” leave that up to Stephen Hawkings. Start small with “who am I?” and “how do I project myself inwards and to those surrounding me?” Whatever you are feeling and whoever you are make sure you are being genuine to others, but more importantly yourself.

Avoid the toilet bowl in life. Stay true to yourself and you will find you where always the princess you believed you where, just stronger, smarter and more beautiful than you ever gave yourself credit for. Therefore remove your costume and star as yourself! You don’t even have to audition you already have the lead role.

"Who knew there was a princess underneath all those rags?" - Cinderella

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

The winds of destiny where blowing that faithful night and I chose my snobbiest ensemble (inside and out) attracting exactly what I deserved. A shallow personality, good looks and a bank roll the size of a Jay Leno’s head.

Stars swirled around me; I was unconscious, drunk and smitten. People say it hits you when you least expect it and boy I could never have seen this one coming. My drug of choice was LOVE! I was addicted to it and like most chemicals; it clouded my judgment, stunted my growth, and lead me to partake in acts I am not proud of. My self identity was starving for a reoccurring role with infinite nights on Broadway and the trophy wife was my Cats. Little did I know that the curtain would close before I could even reach my final act and that my dream role would turn into a nightmare staring “Prince Charming” as a crazy person wearing a black and white stripped sweater and yielding a fist full of lies.

I never really understood the phrase “keeping up appearances”. Probably because it was coined after me (always that last to know that society is gossiping behind my back). From the outside my “perfect” relationship was flourishing, but from the inside it was rotting like a piece of fruit in the sun. And while the flies had already started circling I was too distracted by the sweet fermenting smell to even notice the mold.

So why was I so blind to all of this? My catalysis never spoke of his unhappiness; he paid attention to me when he felt like it, and when he did not he bought me a shiny new toy to deflect my attention. I was only in my twenties. Aren’t these the types of relationships reserved for old married people who are cheating on each other and are no longer in love?

I continued to be his lap dog until my women’s intuition finally broke through the silence. She had been screaming for months, but my ears where blocked and my eyes glazed over like jelly donuts. Something was not right, but I never expected my life to turn into an episode of the “Bold & Beautiful”. He was Latin, really what was I thinking? I had watched Telemundo before: drama, screaming, tears and flying furniture. Strangely enough my catalysis showed about as much emotion as a vampire celebrating yet another birthday.

The paranoid behavior transformed me into what I now know is the true definition of a trophy wife - a CSI agent. I knew my degree in Criminal Justice would come in handy! I launched a full on investigation into his email, mail, wallet, pants, voicemail, and any other storage device I could get my little Nancy Drew hands on. Unfortunately I found exactly what I was looking for. My alleged “Prince Charming” was keeping his options open and was quite the methodical thinker, Maybe not smart enough to cover his tracks, but wise enough to put together a pro’s and con’s list of staying in a relationship with me.

Oprah would be so proud of your MAN journal. So there lying before me I was confronted by a tiny piece of paper listing out scenarios for my possible future including all of my attributes (and there where many) as well as all my flaws (only one or two). But the image that burned a hole in my heart was the other girl’s name listed besides mine – Miss Plan B.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

In the event that you find yourself staring face down into a toilet bowl with your newly announced ex-lover starting at the back of your head, and not affectionately I might add, ask yourself “When was the last time you performed a self examination?”

I caught my first glimpse of reality in a swirly vomit induced hurricane and it socked me right in the kisser! Surprisingly this is where many of my favorite 12 step programmers begin their journey of self evaluation and hopefully mental repair. Alcoholics, anorexics, and drug addicts often find themselves gazing into the loo, like a smelly crystal ball, thinking “this is it, time for change!” Others see this as a challenge to defy nature and keep trucking down the path of destruction. Unfortunately many of these folks land up dead in an undisclosed hotel room or sharing a rehab cell with Lindsey Lohan. Luckily for me this was my point of epiphany and exactly where my journey of self understanding began.

Reality checks often happen at critical points in one’s life and can arrive in the form of divine intervention. Most times desperately need to destroy the dense fog of delusion that looms over one’s head. In my case I was “sowing the seeds of love” in a barren field.

The catalyst for my change (and I will call him that because it is truly the nicest thing I can say about him without inserting a four letter word) arrived in my life for a “usual” Friday night dinner at my parent’s house. Dinner at my house is somewhat of a theatrical performance and I was careful to pick out the perfect leading role and matching outfit for the evening. I liked to be just controversial enough to entertain our guests. I have a slight problem with attention, I have to have it.

I stood in front of the mirror pondering, “Who should I be tonight?” The pseudo intellectual daughter, the daughter suffering from an onset of late teenage angst or my favorite stereotype to perpetuate the Jewish American Princess(what’s wrong with acting rich and self entitled?). All where characters I was perfectly comfortable playing. Changing my persona was as easy as putting on a new pair of underwear, which I did at least once or twice a day. In my opinion I was so Hollywood, but to a more discerning eye I was struggling with a bout of schizophrenia or in layman’s terms a lack of self identity.

My performance that night would be accompanied by my sister’s portrayal of an overachiever; my father, who just had to pretend he liked you, and my mother, who loved to tell a good story (and good often meant heavily embellished). “The art of telling an interesting story is a blessing and a strong trait that runs in our family; it just makes life more interesting!” Lucky me if anything I would grow up to find myself an artist of white lies and tall tales. Maybe I would get a job in Vegas?

So I have recently moved on in my career and am looking forward to the next chapter in my working life. Hopefully it will land me a corner office with a view in which I will lay on my expensive leather couch watching daytime television while demanding that my assistant brings me green tea lattes every 55 minutes (why round up?). Awww the "American Dream" I love this country!

Right now I am exploring all my options and in the interim experiencing the life of an Atlanta Housewife. Unfortunately I am not able to dedicate my day to shopping at Phipps Plaza, lunching at Saks, and finding out who my real farther might be while feuding with my best friend NeNe (your name might be the stem to all your problems in life that and your mini jumpsuits and thighs big enough to feed Africa). My days are filled with doing the dishes, cleaning the house, cooking dinner, grocery shopping and laying at the pool drinking ice tea. Not bad, but substitute the pool for a Tupperware party and I am living in the 1950's.

Time to find a job or have a baby, so I have someone to talk to during the day. I definitely think the cleaning ladies at the gym are close to impaling me with their Swiffers if I don't stop trying to chat them up while I sweat and pant on the treadmill.I need human interaction!

So what would you rather be a "Working Girl" or a "Real Housewife"? I think if I applied my competitive nature to my life as a housewife, I might drive myself to the edge of insanity. Seriously I would lead myself down an ugly road of "best time" Olympics for vacuuming, loading the dishwasher and folding laundry. At least once I have kids I can peg them against each other and take bets. Also what would the cash prize be? A cup of tea and some homemade cookies I need dollar bills yo. An incentive other them my husband's love for my Teriyakie chicken. I am defiantly going with Working Girl till the kids arrive.

I guess I should stop blogging/bitching and start looking for an actual job. Unless someone wants to publish me? I am available for hire! Give me a break. You know I am good and people like me - SHAMELESS I know (and don't care).

Wish me luck, I hope to be the next Jen Lancaster by lunchtime and the next Tess MGill by the end of the week.

"Washing floors and scrubbing fire places is so Never Neverland, I have my eye on castle management" - Cinderella

Friday, September 17, 2010

Thank you to the wonderful Evelyn from "The Adventures of Super Spice" for the lovely award! I am so appreciative when my readers show their love! ﻿I am paying it forward and giving this award to some of my new fav blogs:

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

A cup of Chai tea, my fav pj's, pink head band (of course)! and some Godiva chocolates - Check, check & check! I was as ready as a wasted sorority girl to watch the Gossip Girl season debut last night, unfortunately I think I was more prepared then the show's writers.

(spoiler alert)....

The opening was tre' wonderful and full of promise: designer shops, petite fours, fancy dress, lovin' it! I swear I could just watch Blair acting bitchy, rich, and self entitled for an entire hour and feel fulfilled. However, we are quickly flung from pish posh Paris right back into the dirty reality of NYC's upperside- Oh no! Suprise suprise, someone has a big secret, someone is missing (why does it always have to be CB, can't Dan disappear ), someone is lying about their identity...blah blah blah. Anyone else have a cold case of I have seen this all before or what the French like to call de ja vu? (or maybe there is just a glitch in the matrix).

I can only assume from the season previews that Chuck Bass has contracted a wicked case of amnesia, not the worst thing he can harvest from a sea of European women. Well he must be out of his mind to be wearing those hippie clothes. Henry Prince (CB's new amnesia name) I don't think I am going to like you! A down to earth, appreciative Chuck Bass - BLECH! This is not what I tune in for! I can't stand to see Chuck wearing an outfit that is less than preppy and ridiculous! How can I channel "stuck up" and "privileged" when staring at Garth Brooks' look alike? Geez.

So who thinks "Georgina's" baby is actually Dan's? Not I. I think she is involved with the Russians in a baby smuggling scheme? Snooze! How many more times are these fools going to fall for her trickery and why are they still letting her in the door? Resent your invitation, see if that works on demons!

I am not even going to discuss Nate's new storyline. How trifling! A crazy stalker pretending to be a rich society girl. As original as a LV on Canal Street.

I am trying to remain optimistic that the show will twist off into a meaningful and deep storyline and really bring it this season. But maybe I am just starting to see the show's true colors now that the glamouring effects of Chuck Bass are gone. Bring him back or I might have to say:

Friday, September 3, 2010

The Trueblood season finale is only 1 short week away! I guess times flies when you are staring at Eric's abs and watching Russell spiral downward into complete lunacy. As the season comes to a rapid end I can only assume (in true Alan Ball style) the body count is going to start escalating faster than my appetite when confronted by a Cinnabon to the face.

Rumor is a major character is going to meet their maker (most likely the devil given this town's idea of fun), and I can only hope it is going to be Tara. I seriously can not take her doe eyed, teary faced, lip biting any more. I hope Franklin rises from the dead (remember they buried his remains -big mistake) and rips her freaking groveling head off. This will put both Tara and I out of our misery -problem solved!

The candidates who I think are "dead ringers" for death this season are:

Tommy - Sam's revolting brother. The boy needs serious anger management rehab, him and Mel Gibson could be biffies. I nominate Sam to kill him during a hardcore dog fit and you can throw their mom into the ring while you are at it!

Pam - She might sacrifice herself to save Eric. Girl you love that man too much, it is dangerous! But hey I can't blame you!

Jessica - Hoyt might have to kill her to save himself. She is now totally bat sh*t crazy about drinking his blood and might not be able to control those raging teenage hormones. On the other hand Summer and Hoyt's mom might drive a steak through her heart - not a great way to entice a man to marry you, jealousy not attractive and neither is your virginity.

Russell - He is no doubt going to burn in the sunlight, I just wish he would do so while grasping onto his chaffing dish of Talbot stew!

Arlene - She just tried to abort Renee's evil baby. This might mean war and the baby could kill her from within. If it is a vamp maybe it will eat its way out - EEW I just grossed myself out!

Jesus - He is tots a demon, I think LaLa is going to open a can of gay diva drug dealer on his ass. Maybe he will choke him with a pair of fishnets and hang it up by a boa in the town square. Just in time to be part of the Christmas decorations.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

A trip to the mall on Saturday afternoon with Prince Charming - PRICELESS. People watching at the food court with the locals - $20.00 for lunch and the worst runway show of my life.

Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren our forefathers of American fashion would "pop their preppy collars" if they saw what the average American looks like while shopping at the mall. Is there a sanction against mirrors in this country? When did the nation stop caring about what they looked like? Do we get to blame George Bush for this as well?

Just because we are in a recession people does not mean you have to look like you have given up all hope and in many cases opted to wear less clothing. Dressing skanky only makes you look like you can't afford to cover your body (or a lady of the night trying to turn some tricks at the mall in return for an Auntie Ann's Pretzel and a new pair of Forever 21 shoes). Lets class it ups ladies please for the sake of my sandwich, which I was trying to keep down while watching you flutter by like the next Lady Gaga.

Let's break is down:

Dress your age - Cougars in jumpsuites you know who you are, if its sold in the Junior's department its not for you!

Show off your best assets - not your ass

Sweatpants in public not okay - I also do not need to know if your ass is "juicy" or "hot"

Socks with sandals - shut up!

If your clothes are see thru so are your intentions - you are asking for it!

Brush that hair - if you are not sporting a hair "do" the creepy foreign guy selling ghetto hot irons will continue to harass you till you get it together (and rightfully so)

You do not need to use your entire body as a showcase for all the current trends - pick one per outfit

If you feel discomfort from your tight pants, we feel the same way looking at you - go for one size bigger you will look thinner and nobody sees what size you are wearing!

Fashion is supposed to make you look good - so don't go for pieces that make you look like you are part of the living dead. Yes comfort is important, but comfort does not equal a pair of Tevas and a sweat shirt - Cole Haan makes perfectly cute shoes with Nike air soles,fashionable and easy to wear

Your man is you most important accessory, if his outfit is not making you swoon how do you expect to make all the other girls and boys out there jealous-give him alittle guidance I am sure he will appreciate the input.

Ok so next time you leave the house look in a mirror and think if I saw someone wearing this outfit at the mall would I make fun of them? Coco Chanel lived by the motto: "Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory" I think this is something we all should practice everyday, its the least you can do to help beautify America.

"So many frogs if I kissed them all would I be considered a hussy!" - Cinderella